poems about love

Not as all other women are
Is she that to my soul is dear;
Her glorious fancies come from far,
Beneath the silver evening-star,
And yet her heart is ever near.

Great feelings has she of her own,
Which lesser souls may never know;
God giveth them to her alone,
And sweet they are as any tone
Wherewith the wind may choose to blow.

Yet in herself she dwelleth not,
Although no home were half so fair;
No simplest duty is forgot,
Life hath no dim and lowly spot
That doth not in her sunshine share.

It’s not the lover that we love, but love
itself, love as in nothing, as in O;
love is the lover’s coin, a coin of no country,
hence: the ring; hence: the moon—
no wonder that empty circle so often figures
in our intimate dark, our skin-trade,
that commerce so furious we often think
love’s something we share; but we’re always wrong.

When our lover mercifully departs
and lets us get back to the business of love again,
either we’ll slip it inside us like the host

There's not a fibre in my trembling frame
That does not vibrate when thy step draws near,
There's not a pulse that throbs not when I hear
Thy voice, thy breathing, nay thy very name.
When thou art with me every sense seems dim,
And all I am, or know, or feel is thee;
My soul grows faint, my veins run liquid flame,
And my bewildered spirit seems to swim
In eddying whirls of passion, dizzily.

When thou art gone, there creeps into my heart
A cold and bitter consciousness of pain:

Come darling and be my love!
I shall adorn thy hair with flowers of stars,
And thy ears with rings of the
young spring moon.
And around thy neck shall I put a garland
White as a row of swans,
And thy cloud-coloured dishevelled hair
I shall gather and bind
In dazzling ribbons of silvery lightning.
I shall mix sandalwood with moonlight
And with it wash thy body.
I shall snatch the red from the rainbow

You quiet
the storm within
my fearful, restless,
shattered soul

You've awakened
emotions I thought to be
dead and buried long ago
you gave them life

You are my shelter
in place of a dwelling
It is you who are my shelter
offering me protection

Love, Life, Hope
You have given me
Such wondrous gifts
You are a Goddess

I love you
My Inspiration
My Love, My Life
My Everything

SHE has tender eyes that tell
All her prim, set lips suppress—
Daring thoughts that ever dwell
Prisoned in her bashfulness;
Hints of sudden tenderness
That within her breast rebel.
Till her bosom's fall and swell
Tell her meaning all too well,
To her heart's demure distress.
She has soft, smooth cheeks that flame
As she nestles close, so close,
With the new half-joy, half-shame,
That within her bosom glows,
And each fevered feature shows.
Her hot pulses beat acclaim

A bright red lotus has bloomed today
To passers-by, what a fragrant Entree!
The wind, the bees, or the gentle spray:
Who needs an invitation to a party, eh?

The water trembled gleefully,
Tickled by the golden rays.
In how many ways do I love thee?

The bee's busy counting the ways ...
The lotus blushed;
And turned scarlet in face:
Look! His chariot of seven horses
Race through the eastern skyways ...

In every one of his million hands
He carries a tangled web of love.

My lord, embrace me deeply, and soothe my heart.
Take me in your fond embrace I’ll offer you my body, young and tender.
Come and make love to me, my love, I’ll clasp you firmly.
My lord, embrace me deeply, and soothe my heart.

The bliss not found in the heaven or Vaikunth is in his embrace,
In going to meet Narsinh’s Lord in forest!
My lord, embrace me deeply, and soothe my heart.

A tearful tincture washes
Cabbage-green skies;
Beneath the dribbling bushes
Your raincoats lie;

Pale white in private moonlight,
Like round-eyed sores,
Flap your scabby kneecaps apart,
My ugly whores!

We loved each other in those days,
Ugly blue whore!
We ate boiled eggs
And weed.

One night you made me a poet,
Ugly blond whore.
Get between my legs,
I'll whip you.

I puked up your greasy hair,
Ugly black whore;
You tried to unstring
My guitar.

My light thou art, without thy glorious sight
My eyes are darkened with eternal night;
My Love, thou art my way, my life, my light.
I
Thou art my way, I wander if thou fly;
Thou art my light, if hid, how blind am I!
Thou art my life, if thou withdraw'st I die.
III
Thou art my life; if thou but turn away,
My life's a thousand deaths. Thou art my way;
Without thee, Love, I travel not, but stray.